Welcome to Our Corner of the World
by quisinart4
Summary: A surprise visitor interrupts Felicity and Oliver's lazy Sunday morning. ONESHOT established Felicity/Oliver


**Title:** Welcome to Our Corner of the World

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** Here's another one that came to me in the middle of the night while I'm spending too much time daydreaming about these two! Thank you to **loved in shades of wrong** for her proofreading and motivating skills. Comments would be most welcome, please & thank you! Have a great week! :)

* * *

It's the knocking that wakes her up much too early on a Sunday morning.

Felicity groans and tries to bury her head deeper into her pillow to block it out, but the noise refuses to stop and the knocks remain steady. "Nooo," she whines, her voice muffled into her pillow before she sighs reluctantly and begins to sit up.

Oliver cracks open one eye to stare at her, blinking tiredly as he stifles a yawn. He always sleeps on the side closest to the door; he has since the first night he's stayed over. Felicity knows it's to protect them from any potential intruders, and to keep her safe from any imposing threat. She tries not to think of how many post-island lessons he's had to include in his life; it hurts if she thinks about it for too long.

"I'll get it," he says gruffly.

"No, no," she assures him, pushing his bare shoulder back into the mattress and bending down to brush a quick kiss across his lips. "I'll get it. You rest. It's probably Ms. Hargraves from down the hall needing help with her TV remote again."

Oliver chuckles, his voice husky from sleep. She can't resist kissing him again, and this time, his hand rises to brush softly at her cheek, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. Felicity moans appreciatively and leans in closer.

Yet the knocking continues.

She breaks the kiss to look around the room for the nearest article of clothing to slip into. Unfortunately her dresser drawers and closet door are closed, and she has no idea where Oliver flung her t-shirt and boyshorts last night. He never aims, he just flings them aside. Logistics is going to be hard to try and find something for cover.

"You know I've seen you naked, right?" Oliver teases, amusement coloring his tone as he watches her scan the room to find something to slip into.

"Shut up," she tells him even as she blushes and throws him a smile over her bare shoulder. She spots his sweater from last night on the floor and slips it over her head before grabbing a clean pair of underwear from her dresser. She can still hear Oliver laughing at her sense of modesty from the bed, but she ignores him as she grabs her glasses and makes her way to the front door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she calls out as she crosses the living room to unlock her front door. It takes longer to open now with all three deadbolts Oliver installed, but she finally flings it open. "Hold your horses- oh. Mrs. Queen... hi."

Standing on Felicity's doorstep is the one and only Moira Queen looking more perfectly put together than anyone should at eight o'clock on a Sunday. Every hair is brushed and falls perfectly in place, her makeup is seamless, and she is so color coordinated that her manicured nails match the gray suede of her heels.

Heels. On a _Sunday_.

"Felicity, good morning." Moira greets her with a warm smile but Felicity's mind is already running a thousand different directions at once. Most of those routes end at a destination of clear panic.

"Mrs. Queen, yes, good morning. Hi. How can I help you?" Suddenly she's very sensitive of her bare legs and tugs at the edge of Oliver's sweater. He's a big guy, it should offer her more coverage. Instead it barely hits mid-thigh. Did he buy the wrong size or something?

"I'm looking for my son. Is he here?" Moira asks politely, her eyes glancing behind Felicity to her bedroom door, then assessing her living room, dining room, and kitchen area all in lightning speed. Felicity is suddenly so glad she made Oliver do the dishes last night after they ate. He had tried to seduce her first but no siree, she was not having it until he did his part. He's the one who arrived at her door last night just as she was eating dinner and admitted he hadn't eaten, so she had to make him another bowl of spaghetti. Well, more like three because the guy can eat. Which only makes sense with all the carbs he burns off. In exercise! Not in sex. Not that they didn't have sex last night after dinner and a movie-

"No. I mean, yes! He's here, yes, I meant yes," Felicity repeats quickly to correct herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say no. I wasn't lying! I just got nervous. I wouldn't lie to your face-"

"Felicity? Who is it?"

She turns just in time to see Oliver emerge shirtless from her bedroom, sweatpants riding low on his hips. Oh goodness, the sight would have given poor Ms. Hargraves a heart attack, what with her double bypass surgery last year. And shirtless? _Really?_ He couldn't have pulled on a sweater or something- oh, right. She's wearing it.

Felicity can feel the flush rising in her cheeks as she looks back at Moira. The older woman says nothing, but she can see the twinkle of humor in her eye.

"Come in, please. Welcome. Uh, sorry it's so small. I mean it's not that small, it's a good part of town and I pay enough in rent- but, um, well, you know what I mean." She waves Moira toward the living room as she closes the front door behind her, purposefully avoiding Oliver's gaze. There's no way she can meet his eyes knowing the things they did last night, not with his mother in the room. Her breasts are still raw from his stubble and there must be a hickey or two lining the column of her throat. She should have checked in the mirror before she left the safety of her bedroom.

_Oh god._

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Oliver asks, his tone in no way echoing the welcoming Felicity had just issued.

"Sorry about the mess," Felicity says as she pushes aside a stack of old _Wired_ and _People_ magazines from the couch that she'd been reading last night. She picks up the empty popcorn bowl that's still sitting on the coffee table. She knew she'd forgotten something when Oliver had loaded the dishwasher. At least she can be thankful they'd undressed in her bedroom instead of on the living room couch like they have before. It would have been _much_ more embarrassing scrambling to find her underwear before Moira Queen spotted it. Thank heavens for small favors. "I didn't have much time to clean last night- I mean, I did- I just-"

"Not a problem, dear. I just wanted to talk to Oliver for a minute," Moira tells her, meeting her son's gaze pleasantly despite his stormy stare.

"Can I get you anything? Water, coffee? Um, I'll make coffee. I haven't- I wasn't expecting anyone, obviously-" She stops to take a deep breath and begins again. She'd feel so much more comfortable if she was wearing pants. Or leggings. Or even a pair of shorts for that matter. "I have juice. Orange juice. And wine. Oh, god, sorry, it's too early for wine."

Or is it?

Moira waves away the drink options and focuses solely on her son. "Oliver, I didn't want to end things the way we did last night before I leave today." She turns to Felicity to explain. "I'm taking some time off to visit Walter in England for a few weeks. We want to spend some time together, get to know each other again."

"That's great," Felicity replies honestly with a wide smile. She still communicates with Walter and she's happy to know the couple will be giving it another chance. They deserve to find stability after the rough first few years they had which ended up destroying their relationship. "I'm so happy for you both."

"I'm glad _someone_ is," Moira points out with a sigh, eyeing Oliver so it's very clear exactly who is not happy with the news.

"Right," Oliver says stiffly, but offers nothing more.

Felicity waits patiently for the conversation to continue then decides maybe it's best if she removed herself from the room altogether.

"Well, I'll let you two talk and say your goodbyes then..." Felicity says with a smile as she backs away from Moira, refusing to turn her back on the woman in case the sweater rides up. "Let me know if you need anything- I'm just gonna be- ouch, oops. Thanks," she whispers quietly to Oliver as she bumps into him. His warm hands grab her shoulders, holding her in place as his thumb rubs her bare skin under the neckline of the sweater. She steps away and gives him a nudge forward, silently urging him to go speak with his mother. He doesn't look pleased about her order, but he moves to the couch nonetheless. Moira sends her a thankful look and Felicity smiles at her one last time before dashing into her bedroom.

She takes a seat on the bed but knows sleep is out of the question, not with Moira Queen sitting on the other side of her living room door. Thank the holy Internet she'd managed to find time to vacuum two nights ago. She would hate for Moira to find a dust bunny in the corner, not when the mansion is always so spotless.

Well, the mansion has an army of maids who are there for that sort of thing, Felicity thinks to herself, but the more impressed points she can win from her boyfriend's mother, the better.

She checks her work e-mail, checks her personal e-mail, checks her Facebook, checks the facial recognition running in the lair to find their latest scumbag, and even manages to help three QC employees with tech emergencies (though let's be honest, they were hardly real emergencies, more like people needing to change their security questions because they forgot their security question answers) before Oliver enters the bedroom again.

"What happened? What'd she want? Does she want coffee? I completely forgot to turn the machine on!" She now realizes she actually brought that pesky popcorn bowl into the bedroom instead of taking it to the kitchen. That bowl is traveling everywhere in the apartment except to the kitchen sink where it belongs.

She makes a move to rise from the bed but Oliver grabs her by the waist and pulls her back down, effectively cornering her against the headboard. "She left."

"She did? Oh no, I didn't even say goodbye!" Felicity laments with a groan. "This is horrible, she's going to think-"

Oliver kisses her into silence, his hands dragging through her hair as he settles her back against the pillows. He lays down at her side and only then does he break the kiss, his eyes darkening when he sees the way she licks her lower lip. "Felicity, you've met my mother dozens of times."

"Yes, but not _naked!_" Felicity declares vehemently, though she whispers the last word as if it's a secret and someone could be eavesdropping on them in the privacy of her bedroom.

"You're not naked now," he informs her, though the way his eyes run up and down her, Felicity is sure he's imagining that she is.

"Yes, but I'm naked _under_ these clothes. Your clothes! She's gonna know we slept together." She covers her face with her hands in embarrassment, then promptly looks up to scowl at Oliver for laughing.

Yes, it's a beautiful sound to hear him laugh, and a beautiful sight to see those dimples, but she's being absolutely serious and he's _laughing_ at her.

"I'm pretty sure she already knows that."

"She merely _suspected_ before, now she has proof," Felicity clarifies defiantly. "Why did she come looking for you here anyway? Didn't you know about her trip?"

"I..."

"You...?" She prompts him with a nod when he goes silent. "Continue."

"We got into a fight," he admits as he slides up to sit next to her, shoulders touching as they recline against the headboard. He sighs as he avoids her gaze, staring at the optical illusion painting she has hanging on her far bedroom wall. "I don't think reuniting with Walter is the best choice for her, or even him for that matter. They fell apart for a reason. She completely lied to him. And he obviously doesn't want to move back to Starling City. How would that even work?"

Felicity stays silent for such a long moment that Oliver turns to see if she's still listening. When their eyes meet, all she says is, "Ah. Gotcha."

"What?" His eyes narrow in suspicion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She can't help but laugh; now he's the one who looks offended by the sound. She pushes herself closer and drops a kiss on his cheek, lifting his arm to wrap it around her so she's snuggled against his bare chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and forces him to look her way.

"That is supposed to mean that, yes, you are Oliver Queen by day, and big, bad vigilante hero by night," she continues even as he opens his mouth to interject at the _hero_ part like he always does, "but that still doesn't mean you have a say in your mother's love life."

"I-" He's ready to argue, but she's not done yet.

"Or even your sister's love life, for that matter. Your disapproval of Roy has only made them work harder to stay together, trust me. Well, that and those kids are crazy about each other, that too," Felicity adds, forehead crinkling in thought when she thinks about all the times she's walked in on them making out.

Too many times.

"But-"

"So, to be clear, the only woman whose love life you have any involvement in whatsoever is... well, _me_." She leans down to kiss him, her lips firm as they brush against his, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her hands trace his broad shoulders and she deepens the kiss when she feels the ridge of the self-inflicted arrow wound from their first year of working together. She moans in delight when he reciprocates, his hands wrapping around her waist to tug her into his lap.

He breaks the kiss to stare at her, breathing rapidly, eyes flashing with lust. He hasn't forgotten about the topic at hand entirely though because he still has an argument to make. "I just don't think she and Walter can get past what happened-"

"Oliver," Felicity says with a chuckle, grabbing his face for another kiss. Her legs wrap around his waist to keep him in place and she traces the rise of his ribs in that way that makes him shiver. Only when he's sufficiently involved in kissing her back does she pull away, smiling softly when he makes a noise of protest.

"Your mother is a grown woman. So is Thea. All you can do is watch from the sidelines, and be supportive when you need to be, and step in only when absolutely necessary. Got it?" He mutters something under his breath she doesn't catch, and she frowns at him. "What was that?"

"I _said, _I hate it when you're right," Oliver repeats, the smirk on his face clearly showing more adoration than anger on the subject.

"Well, I would think you'd be used to it by now." She shrieks when his hands slide up the sweater she's wearing to tickle at her sides; his fingertips are warm against her soft skin, the callouses on them making his touch even more erotic. "Stop it, Oliver! No, stop!"

"Nope. And that's my sweater." He slides the fabric up, inch by inch until she has no choice but to lift her head and allow him to pull it off. Her hair fans out above her and she self-consciously pats at it, making him smile before he moves her hands away to entwine their fingers together.

"I know it's yours, I wasn't going to answer the door naked." She tries to respond normally but the way his eyes feast on her bare skin sends her heart racing. A chill runs through her as the bedroom air hits her naked skin, but Oliver is on top of her in a second, keeping her safe, keeping her warm, heating her up in more ways than one. "I sure wish I'd been wearing pants when I opened the door for your mother though."

His hands trail up her calves to her knees, then up further to the sensitive skin of her thighs; his fingers paint patterns only he knows the design to. "I didn't mind the view."

"Oliver..." Her voice trails off when she feels his mouth slide across the ridge of her collarbone. He drops a kiss at the hollow dip of her shoulder and she wraps her arms around his neck to hold him in place.

"Felicity." He smiles at her one last time before leaning down to capture her lips again. "So, how am I doing in your love life?" He doesn't break the kiss entirely even as he questions her, staying so close that their lips brush as they talk, that air is exchanged as they breathe.

"Hmm?" It's hard to remember the question with him leaving wet kisses trailing down her throat, but she manages to nod. "Okay, I guess."

His laugh is muffled against her neck, but he stops to look at her, his expression a mix of amused and affronted. "Just okay? Really?"

"Well, last night you got five stars," she says, blushing as she thinks back to the two rounds that left her limp and more than satisfied, "but then your mother woke me up way too early on my day off. That's on you."

He smirks, a devilish smile that she feels he must have perfected from his early days in the cradle, and before she knows it, she's on her back and he's... "I'm on _you_ now," he points out with a predatory grin. Before she can reply, he lowers his mouth to her ear to whisper, "And I'm about to be in you in a minute."

She whimpers at the promise, hands tugging at the waistband of his pants as he reaches for the elastic of her underwear. "Oliver, oh god, Oliver..."

Then she hears it again, an incessant knocking on the front door. She groans in frustration and Oliver drops his head to her shoulder to curse at the interruption.

"Oh god, don't tell me it's your mom again."

"No, she said she was heading to Jean's then the airport."

Felicity arches her back to glance at the clock on the wall, biting her lower lip as it only aligns her body more perfectly to Oliver's nearly naked one. His hands tighten on her hips at the accidentally seductive mood and she knows there will be bruising tomorrow; she doesn't mind in the least. "Okay, then never mind, it's just Ms. Hargraves needing help with her remote because she watches _Face the Nation_ on Sundays but we're not home, we are definitely not home right now, so kiss me, just kiss me _right now_, Oliver, right now."

He laughs at her first, then kisses her next.

When the knocking finally stops, they're too busy to even notice.

* * *

_the end ~_


End file.
